I don’t like it, and I’m not really sure I am ready yet for further discussion on the topic. I’m taking deep breaths here: breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. I’m indulging in happy thoughts, thinking of the good times, savoring the memories of by gone delights. I’m trying to laugh and keep my sense of humor to stave off the ensuing depression. I’m agonizing over how to say the words, how to grasp the meaning of life, how to come to terms with the drama unfolding, but I may find it therapeutic in the end to just share this with you, my dear readers, and so here goes.
It now appears that my tenants from last summer spread the word that Mel’s pad is a haven for all crickets. Yes, it’s true. I am sorry to report this devastating news update, but these are the facts. I I had my first run-in with the Gryllus Assimilis last evening. It was a young cricket without wings (see "C" on link above), and the problem was easily resolved with one fatal blow using a tissue.
However, I have a dark forboding sense of gloom sweeping over me that this encounter was only the first of many of its kind to come in the days and months ahead. (See "Crickets" in my blog archive.) I did a thorough sweep of the area, but I didn't find any more or evidence of a cricket family in residence. I then conducted a reconnaissance mission in the dining room, where most of the battles took place one year ago, but again, there were no more sightings.
So are there more crickets living with me that I don't know about yet? OR was this just a random cricket who came in my patio door because he liked the color scheme inside? I am trying to be optimistic here, but I am NOT a rose-colored-glasses-wearing-idealist any more either, i.e., the glass may be half full but I think it's about to get tipped over.
Stay tuned. The management will update you on further story developments as time allows.
2 comments:
That means you'll have half as much to spill if it does tip over.
RIGHT...good point. Less mess! :-)
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